A Story to Tell at Parties
by Darth Praxus
Summary: My novelization of the party-crashing scene from "The Dark Knight". Tried to put a bit of Nicholson's Joker into TDK Joker's thoughts.


The lift opens up, and I relish the look on the suit's face as I push the guy forward. "We made it."

I fire the shotgun into the air. No one screams. Impressive. They all jump though, and begin to back away from the boys. Good.

Dent isn't there. Oh, well. I'll find him soon enough. Once I've had some fun.

I clear my throat. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen." I'll be civil about this, if they will. "We are tonight's..._entertainment_." The boys begin herding them further back, gesturing with their guns. I don't think we'll even need those—almost everyone looks ready to cry. I pick up a skewered shrimp, chew on it without tasting. Oh, this is exciting. "I only have one question," I tell them, swallowing. "_Where is Harvey Dent?_"

There's silence. I sigh inwardly. People are so unhelpful these days. You have to do everything yourself. Well. Some persuasion is in order, I guess. I brandish the shotgun at a few women, take a glass of champagne and spill most of it before tossing down a swallow. Liquid courage, they call it, not that I need it. These folks could do with some.

"You know where Harvey is?" I ask a waitress politely. She shrinks away. Next in line is a middle-aged guy, balding. I take hold of his face, shake him slightly. "You know where I can find Harvey? I need to talk with him about something. Just something little, huh? No?" Nothing. Another unfriendly jerk, like most everyone else in this world. Why can't they all just smile more? Take things a little less seriously.

This guy is older, white hair and glasses. I'm getting a bit tired of this lack of cooperation. "You know," I say, advancing on him, shaking the gun, "I'll settle for his loved ones."

This one doesn't flinch away. "We're not intimidated by you _thugs_," he spits at me.

Oh, boy. No one understands. Thug? Me? I'm just a guy who likes a good laugh, is all. This is starting to get me irritated. "You know," I tell him, stepping closer, "you remind me of my father." I cast the gun aside, pull out the stubby knife I always keep on me. Grab him by the lapels. "I _hated _my father!"

_ Did I? _I think to myself.

_It depends_, I reply.

"Okay, stop!"

It's a woman's voice, strong and unafraid. This could prove interesting. I let go of my father, turn around and see her. Ah, yes. It's _her_.

Arms folded, head held high. She's good-looking. I like her, I think. Maybe she'll get me the fun I'm looking for. "Well, hello, beautiful," I say in my most charming voice. I attempt to slick back my hair with the hand that isn't holding the knife. "You must be Harvey's _squeeze_." I draw closer, till I'm only a few feet away. "And you _are_ beautiful." I start to walk around her, and she shows fear for the first time, turning away, trying to hide her face. Not so unlike the rest of them, really.

I'm back where I started, in front of her, knife held out. She needs to relax. I suppose it's my face. Maybe a story will help. "You look nervous. Is it the scars? You wanna know how I got 'em?"

Really, I can't even remember anymore. Some days, I'm sure that it _was_ dear old dad that did it. Others, it was a freak accident. Today, I decide, it's her. Yes. Now I remember, _she_'s how it happened. Good. I have the story, I have the audience. Time to play.

I lift the knife. She tries to turn away. That won't do. I take her by the face, turn her head. "C'mere. Hey, look at me." Her struggling subsides somewhat, enough. "So I had a wife—beautiful like you—who tells me I worry too much. Who tells me I oughta _smile_ more. Who gambles and gets in deep with the sharks." She's struggling again, twisting her face away. I grab it again. "Hey." She stops again. _See? Already, you're relaxing. _"One day, they carve her _face_."

She's very still now, looking me in the eyes. "Now, we have no money for surgeries. She can't _take it._" I'm a bit caught up in the memory, and my voice is starting to shake just slightly. "I just wanna see her smile again. Hmm? I just want her to know that I don't _care_ about the _scars_!" Maybe she can see what's coming; she's pulling away again, and I'm having to work hard to hold her in place. She isn't getting away, though. Not until my little anecdote's done. "So I stick a razor in my mouth, and do _this_," I point at my face with the blade, "to myself." She's now completely still. Is that pity in her eyes? "And you know what?" Now we're both shaking. "_She can't stand the sight of me! _She _leaves_!"

Don't worry, baby—it has a happy ending. "But now, I see the _funny _side. Now, I'm always _smiling_!" I grin at the memory.

There's a split second where I see her face change from pitying to determined, and then I feel the burst of pain between my legs. Oh, the sensation is marvelous. I finally let go, bend over for a moment, laughing. Now _this_ is fun. I've almost forgotten about Harvey. "A little fight in you. I like that!"

"Then you're gonna love me!"

I barely have time to register that someone else is speaking before I'm sent sprawling. Gunfire starts, then the sounds of one body hitting the other. I look up.

Oh. Oh, yes. It's him.

The Batman.

The boys are getting whipped, badly. I take one, shove him forward, charge in myself. Time for a joke I've been saving for just such an occasion. I trigger the blade in my boot, kick at the black suit of armor while it struggles with the other guy.

It hurts him, I can tell, but he doesn't break stride. I come at him again, and this time he knocks me to the ground. Time for a new strategy.

Yes. The girl. I dive for the 9 mm that one of the boys has dropped, grab it, then lunge for the girl. I grab her, and this time I don't let go. Pity I won't get the chance to use the knife, but the joke's till on them.

He sees. "Drop the gun!" Is that a note of panic in his voice?

"Oh, sure. You just take of that little mask and show us all who you _really_ are, hmm?" I laugh, point the gun behind me, blast out the window. This should be fun. I take the girl, hold her out over the edge, gun still to her head.

"Let her go!" Yes, there's definitely some panic there.

I don't often use cheap puns, but this time I can't resist. "_Very _poor choice of words!" Shrieking with laughter, I drop the girl, turn and run. I've gotten what fun I can here. Harvey will have to wait.


End file.
